


at the top of the list

by lovelikerain611



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelikerain611/pseuds/lovelikerain611
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes, when Dean looks in the mirror, he sees all the things he isn't letting himself think about. Castiel always tops that list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. list

**Author's Note:**

> ImpalaDreams/27spanx/baby1967 (You have too many names, bee!) prompted the first chapter.

It isn’t an intentional thing, not at first. There was never (there still hasn’t been) a time when he looked in the mirror and confessed it to himself, but it’s there, hovering underneath the surface.

(Sometimes, when Dean looks in the mirror, all he sees are the million and one things he isn’t telling himself, isn’t letting himself think about, and Castiel always tops that list.)

But the first time.

The first time it wasn’t so much intentional as it was right—in that way that only certain things are right. There are so very few things in Dean’s world that can be filed under “right”—Baby, that he would die for Sammy a million times, and that Castiel is the end-all be-all to his world.

It was after a case. It hadn’t gone well. They’d caught the thing, but it hadn’t gone well and Cas just didn’t do well when it didn’t go well and so Dean goes to shower as soon as they hit the door and Sammy shuts himself in the library to bury himself in research and Cas—

Castiel is sitting on the edge of the bed when he walks out of the shower and Dean can see it, in the lines of his shoulders, in the way he sits on the edge of the bed. Those are the shoulders of a man—of an angel—who carries the world and says nothing.

It’s so rare to see him like this and Dean feels intrusive, like he’s looking into the very, very depths of what makes Castiel Castiel and suddenly he’s not Cas, the socially awkward angel, he’s Castiel angel of the Lord and he is tired.

Dean drops a hand onto his shoulder and Cas sinks under the weight. “Hello, Dean,” he says, and his voice is gravel, rough and weary, a million problems and no solutions. 

“You okay?” And Dean knows it’s a stupid, stupid question, and he knows the answer (how could he not, he’s spent years being asked the same thing and wanting to scream, to just fucking scream), but he can’t help it; it falls from his lips before he can stop it and Castiel just sighs. “Cas, I—”

Castiel looks up at him then, and he feels it, he feels all the times he should have and didn’t and he just does.

There isn’t a whole lot of thinking. 

Dean shuts his brain off and focuses on Castiel and the way he feels when Cas looks at him and he just. Goes. For. It.

The kiss is hot and wet and it’s different, because Dean has kissed a guy before, but he’s never kissed an angel before, or maybe it’s that he’s never kissed someone like this before and by like this he means someone he’s so fucking hard in love (or lust, or something) with. The noise Castiel makes when Dean presses his lips against his is everything that will be okay in the world, and all Dean can do is push Castiel back harder.

Then it happens.

One minute they’re kissing and making out and it’s the best thing ever and the next Castiel’s hand is down his pants and Dean is pulling back faster than he’s ever pulled away from a hand on his dick.

“Whoa whoa whoa what’re you—”

But Castiel grips him around the collar and pulls him back and he fumbles at his pants. “Dean,” he says, “Dean please.”

And he’s only heard Castiel beg a total of three times including that one and maybe it’s that or maybe it’s that Dean wants it just as badly as Castiel seems to, but he leans back in to kiss him and then Castiel’s hand is wrapped around his dick and its clumsy and not even close to the best handjob he’s ever gotten, but it is the best handjob he’s ever gotten because it’s Castiel and when he looks at him, the look in his eyes tells him everything he’s never heard—

Dean you are worth it, you are special, you are the best part of the entire earth for me, you are the earth for me—

And all Dean can do is press his head against the place Castiel’s neck meets his shoulder and there are tears and when he comes its quiet and soft and all he does is grunt softly and maybe shift a bit and Castiel moves him suddenly and Dean finds himself on his back, his head pressed against the pillows as he comes. He opens his eyes as his orgasm fades and Castiel is there, watching his cock twitch and soften in the palm of his hand then then his eyes flicker up to Dean’s and all Dean can think is that this, this is all that is good and right and real in the world—this is all he needs, and he’ll be alright.


	2. moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> these are the moments he loves the most.

And these are the moments he loves the most—the moments when he can see the pieces of Dean’s face he loves the most. He’s—Dean’s—a beautiful creature and Castiel relives every beautiful, painful piece of the reconstruction of his soul every time he watches Dean fall apart.

It’s these moments that remind him how good it feels to be human, how incredibly alive he feels when Dean grips his arms tight, so tight, and tilts his head back against the pillows and his neck is open and free for the taking, and Castiel reaches down to run his lips up the column of Dean’s neck. He is reminded of how very very fragile they are, humans, how very short and fleeting their lives are and it makes Castiel feel very old and very young and impossibly insignificant and the most important being in the universe all at once. He rests his head in the crook where Dean’s neck meets his shoulder and he presses his lips against Dean’s collarbone and he just waits.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice is soft, and it’s concerned. It’s desperate in the quietest, most intimate sort of way. 

“Yes, Dean, I am here,” Cas says and he moves his hips again and Dean makes this noise, like his world is falling apart and maybe it is, maybe that’s what all this is, just Dean’s world falling apart and Cas putting it back together, over and over again. Regardless, Cas’s world rests on the sound Dean makes when Castiel twists his hips like that and he would stay here in this bed forever if Dean would just keep making that fucking noise.

Dean’s breathing is heavy and rough—he is flushed and his hands are going to leave bruises on Cas’s shoulders from where his fingers are pressed into the skin tight, so tight.

“Cas,” Dean grunts and it’s a prayer and a plea and a million different things that are all the same and Cas pumps his hips again, pressing Dean into the mattress.

“Dean,” Cas replies, and it’s all he has to say before Dean’s cock is bobbing against his stomach and Dean is clenching around him and Dean is pressed against the mattress with his head thrown back, his eyes closed as his chest heaves and he paints himself and Cas in ropes of white come.

And that is all it takes before Cas is grunting and his hips are staccato and rough, fucking Dean into the mattress, the springs squeaking and the headboard thumping but it’s still so intimate and right and good that he can’t stand it and he sighs and presses his forehead against Dean’s and all the world is Dean, Dean, Dean.

His orgasm flares and fades slowly, like the sunset at the end of a day, bright and slow and easy. He pulls out slowly and soothes Dean’s wince with soft kisses pressed against his jaw and neck, sucking easy bruises into his skin and “shhhhh, Dean, shhhhhh, I am here. I am here.”

“Cas,” Dean whispers, and it’s broken, in more ways than one, but he feels so good and Dean wraps his arms around Cas’s shoulders and Cas rests his head on Dean’s collarbone and this, this is why he gave it all up, for these moments, his face pressed into the soft, secret place where Dean’s neck and his shoulder meet.

Their breathing slows together, fades together, the orgasm eases off slowly until Dean and Cas are just a tangled web of legs and arms and skin.  
Dean pushes at Cas gently and Cas shifts and they lay on their backs in the bed, staring at the ceiling, nothing but the very outer edges of their hands touching and it is good.


	3. heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean thinks Castiel brought him heaven, but Castiel has experienced a million heavens and none of them come close to the way he feels when his skin is pressed against Dean's.

The first time they consummate their relationship is not exactly what Dean had in mind, but nothing really is when it comes to Cas. Lisa is the closest Dean has ever come to being in love before Castiel and Castiel is different than Lisa in so many ways it's almost laughable to draw parallels between their relationships.

(Dean would like to think he could be strong enough to make the same decision he made with Lisa if it ever came down to that with Cas, but the truth is, he just really doesn't think he is. Now that he's tasted the forbidden fruit, there is no going back. He simply cannot live without Castiel now and that equal parts terrifies and exhilarates him.)

But the first time they consummate their relationship is the best and the worst sex Dean's ever had in his life.

It is not Dean's first time, not with sex (obviously) not with a guy (obviously) and not bottoming or topping. (He's more of a bottom, he really really is, but he has been known to top in certain situations.) This is not Dean's first time for anything, but for Cas it's the first time for everything and Dean just feels clumsy and stupid, fumbling his way through a half-assed attempt at romance.

Should you wine and dine angels before you fuck them?Dean's bnot really sure and there isn't anything in the Bible about screwing angels (he checked, because there's some freaky shit in there and maybe, but no), and dad's journal really isn't any help and when he asks Sam, Sam just kind of gives him this look like "how the hell should I know, man?"

So Dean's on his own to get into Castiel's pants.

Castiel makes it remarkably easy--He wants it, and Cas is about as subtle as a wrecking ball when it comes to telling people what he thinks, what he wants, and he is very open with Dean about what he expects.

Almost too open.

If Dean's being honest with himself (which he rarely, rarely is these days), he's the one that wants the romance, not Cas.

Castiel really is quite basic when it comes down to it, at least in the bedroom. He wants Dean. Dean wants him. To Castiel, sex is a math equation.

Of course, Dean has seen the way Cas looks at him. He knows that Castiel loves him, as much as Castiel can love anyone (which, according to the angel, is apparently quite a lot, though it is a little bit different than the way Dean understands love, which is fucked up anyway), but Castiel really only cares about Dean and about being fucked by or fucking Dean, experiencing the sex. Dean's all about the romance. Castiel is all about experiencing all of Dean.

In the end, it doesn't seem to matter. They get through fifteen minutes of an extremely awkward candlelit dinner when Castiel drops his napkin.

"Can we move onto the next part of the evening now?"Castiel asks, looking up at Dean. "Please?"

And Dean throws his own napkin down and stands from the table and stalks into the bedroom. A rustle of wings and Castiel is there too, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide and he's never looked quite as fuckable as he does right that second and this--this is one of the few times Dean is okay with being a top.

Castiel just watches him as Dean removes his clothes slowly, meticulously. This is their first time. Dean's pitiful attempt at foreplay has gone straight to hell, but it's still going to be special because dammit it's Castiel.

Castiel moves closer and Dean is a little bit awestruck at the way Castiel moves. He is reminded that Castiel is an angel and he--he is just a human, just a fragile human in love with a creature centuries older and wiser and who could probably have his pick of anyone in the universe and here he is with Dean and Dean just--

He has to pause a minute, his hands at his belt. Castiel cocks his head to the side, observing Dean quietly with those blue blue blue eyes and Dean feels exposed. He shivers and tugs at the belt, before reaching out to brush a hand against Castiel's face.

Castiel's eyes close and he leans into the touch, a soft sigh falling from his lips. It is not the first, or the last, or the most intimate of touches they have shared, but it is the special Dean's been looking for and Dean nearly loses it right there, his hand cradling Castiel's cheek, Castiel's eyes closed like Dean's hand on his cheek is all he needs, ever.

And Dean's answering sigh is the invitation to close the space between them and Castiel's lips are suddenly on his, dry and hot and smooth.

He will never get used to the way Castiel kisses--like everything depends on it, like nothing else in the world matters or will ever matter ever again.

He pulls back from the kiss to tug at that damn trench coat, and then the tie that matches his eyes--fuck he's such a fucking girl--then the shirt and the pants and before long,they're both naked, observing each other quietly.

It is not the first or the last or the most intimate time they've been naked together, but it is special. Dean licks his lips and takes another step towards Castiel, because the way Castiel is looking at him makes him feel like he might cry or die or fly.

Castiel looks at him like the world hangs off of his ass--like he is the most amazing creature Castiel has ever ever seen and Dean knows that Cas has seen a lot of shit.

So Dean grabs his face and presses hot dirty kisses against Castiel's face and Castiel makes this noise that makes Dean's cock jump and his stomach clench and he presses him back against the bed.

He takes his time getting him ready. He does not want to hurt Castiel. He has no idea if angels can prep themselves or heal themselves or what the fuck ever, but he's not taking any chances.

Once Castiel is taking three of Dean's fingers and whining and groaning and making noises Dean is pretty sure are illegal--or at the very least blasphemous-- for angels to make, he leans closer, bracing himself on Castiel's shoulders. "This is probably going to hurt," he says softly, watching the smudges Castiel's eyelashes make on his cheek. He wants to cry.

Castiel's eyes open and rest on Dean's, widening a bit as Dean presses in,slow and smooth. Castiel makes this noise that shoots straight to Dean's cock and they both gasp for air.

It's not the best sex he's ever had. It's quick and dirty and not even close to the romance Dean wanted, but it's still the best sex he's ever had because it's with Castiel.

Castiel is on his back, panting and covered in come andDean is above him, just watching, just soaking him in, this creature from heaven who brought heaven to this quiet room.

Dean finally rolls off of Castiel and then Castiel is on top of him, kissing at his face tenderly and gently, his hands running over Dean's arms and shoulders and chest gently and he's just touching him, just feeling him, not really in a sexual way--just experiencing him, memorizing all the lines, the mountains and valleys of his body.

Dean thinks Castiel has brought him heaven, but the reality is Castiel has experienced a million heavens and none of them even come close to the way he feels when his skin is pressed against Dean's.


End file.
